


and then it will restart

by lenticularprint



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Body Modification (Non-Consensual) - Dealing With The Aftermath, Dimension Travel - Meets Another Version of Self, Dimension Travel - Trying to Find a Timeline That's Not Doomed, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenticularprint/pseuds/lenticularprint
Summary: He stares down the barrel of a pistol, at the other him.Adam remembers when having a gun in his face would’ve scared him more. Now he knows that between the dermal armour and the TITAN, six rounds are unlikely to kill him. Even if they’d hurt like hell. To be honest, he’s not really thinking about that. He’s too busy staring at hairy forearms and white knuckles, and blue eyes.When Koller said “experimental” and then “What the fuck’s a Butterfly aug?” he figured that it was maybe some kind of protective cocoon, or it was some aug that’d turn him into something even weirder and more inhuman. Hell, maybe even wings, one more sick mythology motif to go with the Icarus.He didn't expect… this.





	and then it will restart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [originally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/gifts).



> This is a very, very belated promptfill, because your Tropefest prompts were fantastic but I was too late to properly treat. And this turned out a lot angstier than I intended. Hopefully it still works.
> 
> (Title from ["Requiem"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nHIByWGhY4) by Shey Baba, which is basically the perfect song for angsty selfcesty time travel.)

He stares down the barrel of a pistol, at the other him.

“You’d better tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re here,” the other – _Jensen_ , goddammit, Jensen _,_ this is weird enough already, says. He looked like he was half-asleep a second ago, but… gun under the couch. Old habit.

Adam remembers when having a gun in his face would’ve scared him more. Now he knows that between the dermal armour and the TITAN, six rounds are unlikely to kill him. Even if they’d hurt like hell. To be honest, he’s not really thinking about that. He’s too busy staring at hairy forearms and white knuckles, and blue eyes.

When Koller said “experimental” and then “What the fuck’s a Butterfly aug?” he figured that it was maybe some kind of protective cocoon, or it was some aug that’d turn him into something even weirder and more inhuman. Hell, maybe even wings, one more sick mythology motif to go with the Icarus.

He didn't expect… this.

“Uh,” he manages. He swallows, and tries to stop his head spinning. “What year is it?” Though he has a bad feeling he knows, from the fact this is his and Megan’s place and the other him’s stuck sleeping on the couch.

Ad – fuck. _Jensen’s_ eyebrows raise. He stands without even shifting his aim. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Just answer the damn question.” Irritation, acting like he has a right to ask, it can wrongfoot people enough to get answers. Worked often enough on Pritchard.

“2026.” Looks like it works on him, too. Then Jensen’s mouth tightens, like he's just figured that out right along with Adam. (Damn. He never really figured he scowled that hard. No wonder people keep edging away from him on the train to work.) Jensen demands, “What is this, some kind of surgery?” Jensen doesn’t wave the gun around like a wannabe gangster. He keeps his aim steady.

He snorts, because that seems easier than the alternative. “You could say that.”

It’s a little fucked-up, getting CASIE readings on yourself. But he figures he was a little different back then. _Beta/omega, heartbeat raised._ _Be assertive,_ _focus on information. Attacks on character_ _effective_ _._

Jensen glares at him. “Not the augs. The… face.”

Adam swallows. Opens his mouth, and thinks about it. He knows about the butterfly effect, he’s read enough damn sci-fi. Sure, maybe all this pain was necessary. Maybe without the attack, he wouldn’t have found out about Panchaea, or the Illuminati. But he thinks of the idea that the Incident was _necessary,_ that all those people dying or having their lives destroyed was for some greater good...

Bullshit. He’s not Darrow.

The words spill out like water from an overturned jug, spreading fast, fast enough he can’t tell yet what they’re damaging. “You know that job Megan’s talked about at SI? Don’t take it. Or at least, make them amend the damn contract.”

He sees the surprise in his own eyes before Jensen tries to hide it. Badly. He’s suddenly glad for the shields; he can see now just how bad it is when he tries to lie without them.

He tries, “There’s a clause. About medical proxies. Sarif - ” He feels the shields retract, and he blinks, jaw working. Fuck.

Jensen stares at him, and the horror’s back, dawning. He never figured he’d see that expression on his own face, the stock non-augmented special: half-repulsed, half-pitying. “What the hell did he do to you?”

He ignores that. He can’t - “You need to ask Megan about Patient X. About who they are. Cause some part of you knows.”

He doesn’t even mention Mom and Dad. Somehow, that was the easiest of all the betrayals to swallow. When they said they didn’t want to hurt him, that they just wanted him to have a chance to be normal – and he snorted at that, looked down at black metal fingers – he’d believed them. He could believe they loved him. Everyone else… not so much.

Jensen swallows, and his grip… He lowers the pistol, just a little. “She didn’t know, right? She didn’t sign off on...” He stares, his eyes running over Adam. _On you._

“She wasn’t around. She didn’t know it’d turn out like this. Don’t think she really thought it through. It was her research, though.”

Jensen grits his teeth at that, refocuses his aim. “Give me one reason I should believe you.”

Adam looks back, and suddenly anger’s rising in him. “Give me a reason I’m lying. You think I want to be _this?_ You think I wouldn’t do anything to change it?”

“I...” Jensen blinks. “You could probably snap me in half.”

Adam laughs humourlessly, and something in the sound is broken. “Everything else, too. It took me a while to get used to these.” He raises a hand, and looks at it. Realises, again, how goddamn inhuman it must be to see. He’d almost gotten inured to it over the past couple years – can almost fool himself on the good days it doesn’t matter - but all he must look like is… a monster. A nightmare. It’s not the augs. It’s the weapons, the fact he never wanted any of it. Damn it. He never wanted to be the ghost of Christmas future.

“What the hell _happened_?”

He looks up at Jensen’s words. “There’s an attack a few months into 2027. There was a backdoor Sarif opened in the system – Don’t look at me like that.” He glares back. “I put every goddamn measure I could in place, I’d looked into _everything_ , Pritchard...”

Jensen’s still frowning. There’s no recognition on his face, in his eyes.

A world without the annoying voice in his ear, where no-one would’ve dug him out of somewhere like Alaska. A world where he doesn’t know who Pritchard is. Or Malik. And he’ll probably never even meet Alex or TF29. That’s… weird. More than weird. Something rises in Adam’s chest, and it’s too much for him to focus on right now.

He says, “The mercenaries were augmented like none of us had ever seen. They took Megan, her research. One of them threw me through plate glass, put a bullet in my head. I lost… a few things.”

“Tell me you got her back.” And Jensen’s eyes are furious, even in the low light. Blame. Yeah, that’s familiar. “ _Tell me.”_

“I didn’t need to.” Adam swallows. “She stayed. She was working with them.”

Jensen raises the pistol again. “You know, you almost had me.” He snorts, with a bitter twist of his mouth.

“She wanted to save the world. She always wants to save the world. They told her… I don’t know what they told her. She helped me break it apart, when Darrow - ” Adam swallows.

Jensen frowns, hands tightening on the grip of the gun. “The guy building Panchaea?”

“Yeah. I just… There’s a biochip…” He screws his eyes shut. “It all starts with Patient X. That’s why they wanted her. Megan… Her password is ‘kubrick.’ And her secure server’s… not that secure.”

Jensen exhales, and the gun doesn’t shift an inch. “Dammit, I _told_ her - “

He snorts. “Yeah. Every six months. She never listens.”

Jensen stares at him, eyes sharp but duller than he’s used to. He’d almost forgotten how dark they used to be. Jensen’s jaw works. “I’m not going to spy on her.”

Adam tilts his head. “I’d say it’s none of my business, but… kind of is. You already know what you’re gonna find.”

Jensen’s hands shake, just a little – but only a little. And his finger hasn’t been on the trigger in a while. “Fuck you.” But his voice is quiet, resigned.

“That’d be a little weird.” Adam smiles slightly, more of a grimace, and tries a step forward. When Jensen just watches him, he takes another. Another. “I just need you to listen to me.”

“You still haven’t given me one goddamn reason to believe you.”

Adam takes another step, until the barrel of the gun’s pressed against his forehead. Maybe there's a slim chance it'd kill him, at this range. It's cold. Grounding. He stays there, and breathes. “Because what Darrow does kills millions. Makes them kill _each other.”_ He knows how desperate he sounds, but he can’t stop it, doesn’t even know if he should. _“_ And even if I’m wrong… you really want to take that chance? You think you could live with yourself if you could’ve prevented it? _I couldn’t._ Still can’t. _”_

Jensen grits his teeth, fingers shifting -

\- and turns the safety back on. After a second too long, without taking his eyes off Adam, he puts the gun aside. “What the hell happened to you?” And his voice is softer, now. “What the hell made me like this?”

Adam spreads his hands at his sides, gives a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. It's an answer.

Jensen steps closer. Closer, still coiled tight. It looks different with natural legs, the gait not as smooth. “I told you, I don’t mean the augs.”

Adam wants to sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. Hell, you don’t have to believe me. Find the files and they’ll speak for themselves. Or ask Sarif about the data backdoor next time Meg drags you to one of those office parties. Say someone in the tech lab found it.” Pritchard did eventually, after all.

“And if it all happens again?”

“Then at least I tried. That’s all anyone can do.” He’s told himself that so many nights, watching the police vans drive past, knowing he isn’t going to sleep and that even drinking won’t take the edge off. Or when he wakes up sweating because a second ago he was drowning, and Panchaea was going to take him down with it -

No. Not here, not now.

Jensen just looks at him with that steady gaze. The revulsion and horror are almost gone; he’s thinking. Already finding a plan. Good. Jensen’s eyes shift to the black, shining polymer of his arms. “I’ve seen a lot of augs.” Jensen takes another step closer. “None like these.”

“Custom job. Sarif figured he ought to design me himself.” Adam knows he sounds bitter, but he has a right to be. Even if it took a long time to accept that.

Jensen reaches out a hand. It pauses in midair. Like he acted without thinking. “How far do they go?”

Adam swallows, and when he speaks, he tries for casual – it just comes out brittle instead, and he knows he’s skating on thin ice. “Arms. Legs. Had to rebuild my respiratory system. Turns out then they have to reinforce your spine to stop the augs ripping the rest of you apart.”

He stands his ground, and lets his eyes unfocus, because it’s too dangerous to let them fall anywhere in particular – the couch, Kubrick’s dogbed, the guy in front of him who’s more him than he is. He just stands, and breathes, and he expects another jab -

He’s so busy trying not to think that he doesn’t check his radar. The hand on his arm startles him. Maybe without the augs, he’d have jumped. As it is, he just freezes and looks at Jensen, who’s too busy staring at his arm.

Jensen’s hand slides upwards slightly, checking the cords, between the plates. “These are...” Jensen’s voice is quiet. “These are milspec. Jesus, you’re a walking tank.” He frowns. He looks like he’s morbidly fascinated. Like he couldn’t help himself.

Adam stares at him. He’d never touch anyone else like this, especially a stranger who has enough augmentations to need five different licenses and to be illegal in seven countries, but he’s… not anyone else. And when Adam glances up at him, they both know that.

He should’ve remembered, anyhow. He always got snapped at for being too sympathetic, for giving himself too much of a chance to get stabbed in the back. Adam looks at him like he’s trying to understand. Like anyone possibly can without having half of them ripped out and reassembled. He always tried. ( _Goddamn idiot,_ he remembers Haas snapping, _and we're all going to suffer for it. Faith doesn't work when you're behind a damn trigger, Adam.)_

He stands there, and feels…

Jensen’s hands are a little cool. They were still warm after the augs, but... different. Adam runs hotter than someone who isn’t augmented, but it’s not human heat. It hums, just slightly, in a way the radiant warmth under skin doesn’t - more noticeable, less natural. He looks down and thinks that he’d almost forgotten that scar he used to have on his third knuckle. And he can feel the callouses from years of training; they’re rough against the surface of his augs. His fingers flex at the unfamiliar sensation, plates shifting as his forearm tenses.

Jensen’s head snaps up. “I – Sorry.”

Adam just shakes his head, swallowing.

Jensen hesitates, frowns at him. “I thought that was a full HUD.” And then that hand is at the corner of Adam’s eyes, and Jensen’s looking at the frame. “They went for direct occipital augs?” (Yeah, so he’s always pretended to know less about it all. If he shrugged it off, it got Sarif to stop asking questions, to stop watching him with that sharp curiosity, at least for a short while. He should’ve seen that look for what it was from the start. _I can rebuild you. I’m just working out how._ )

His voice is still rough, bitter. “Had to rebuild half my skull anyway. What’s a little more?”

Jensen’s thumb strays to the skin around the frames, traces under Adam’s eye and his cheek.

He doesn’t mean to inhale. Or for his eyes to close.

But he feels Jensen tense. Shit. Jensen says, soft and with that surprised pity in it, “How long’s it been since anyone…?”

Adam can’t make himself answer that. Can’t make himself move. He just stands, silent and still, and that point of warmth against his face – real skin against real skin – is all he can think of. It feels like a life raft.

Jensen’s thumb traces over his lower lip with that same slow curiosity, skims his mouth, and Jensen breathes out, warm against his skin.

Adam opens his eyes -

What - That light’s too bright. There’s a crazy-haired shadow, and it resolves to -

“ _Jesus,_ Jensen. I really thought you were dead. You _flatlined_ , man.” Koller laughs, and it’s wild as his eyes, panicked. “What the fuck did that thing do?”

Adam looks down, raises a hand. He stares at black metal, the same as ever, and turns it over, examining it. He glances at metal-myomer arms and flexes titanium toes, feeling the give of his shoes, even ones designed for augs.

Koller’s still watching him. “You all right? You seem kind of… out of it.”

He frowns at Koller. He tries, “The Incident...”

Koller stares back like he’s just said something stupid, maybe announced the sky is green. “Incident?” Koller looks nervously over his shoulder. “I mean, there was that time I spilled lo mein on the monitor...”

Adam swallows and tries to think through the lightness in his head. He feels himself reach out and grab Koller’s arm. “Take me back.”

Koller still looks at him like he’s speaking Greek. “Back where, dude?”

Maybe this time, he can fix it better. Maybe it’s just being able to go back to a world where he has blue eyes. He doesn’t know.

He says, “Reactivate the aug. You can do that, right?”

“I could… You sure? I haven’t had a corpse in here in two years, I feel like it would bring the place down - “

“ _Do it._ ”

Koller backs away, hands up. “Sure. Whatever you want. You’re paying.” He heads to an interface terminal, muttering. It lapses into Czech at some point.

Adam lies back down, and lets the world dissolve back into light.


End file.
